24: The Conspiracy
by movieman2400
Summary: Jack Bauer is interrupted during his vacation and forced to battle a deadly group of terrorists bent on destroying the world. Title and rating may change. R & R.
1. 6:00 AM : 7:00 AM

**24**

**The Conspiracy**

_By moviefreak2004_

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any characters of 24 and am using them solely for entertainment purposes.

NOTE: There is no exact place in the 24 timeline where this takes place.

**Last Update** : Saturday, July 16th, 2005.

**6:00 A.M. – 7:00 A.M.**

The alarm clock chirped out its morning greeting and Jack Bauer groaned as he rolled over in bed. Damn. He had forgotten to reset it to a better time last night. 10:00 A.M. sounded a bit better. Maybe noon? It wasn't incredibly common for someone on vacation to wake up at such a early time.

Jack stretched out his arm to tap the Snooze button but by the time he reached it, he was fully awake. His experience with C.T.U. (Counter Terrorist Unit) had trained him to be this monster. This monster that never had to sleep. And whenever he tried to cure himself, some stupid thing always carried him back in.

An alarm clock. This was close to pathetic.

Jack slid his legs over the bed and he winced slightly as they touched the shag carpet. He stood up and stretched his arms for several seconds before proceeding to the bathroom. A quick shower followed and he brushed his teeth.

He didn't need much to eat so he gulped down a quick bagel with cream cheese. While eating, he turned his head to look out at the beach. The waves weren't that high today. Some couples and families were already there but mostly it was deserted.

Jack snapped up a cup of coffee and brought it to his lips. Mmm, hot but soothing.

He slid the glass door open and stepped onto the dry sand. His toes suddenly felt at ease and he wiggled them lazily.

Making his way down to the beach, Jack nodded at Alberto, the boat handler.

Jack dipped his toes into the cold, wet sand but felt comfortable. The water washed over his legs and he winced. But it was strangely good.

A little boy, around seven years of age, was running towards the water with pure glee. A girl, his sister Jack guessed, was following him.

Happiness...

Something Jack hadn't experienced for a long time. The only thing life had thrown at him in the past six months had been sorrow, death, and pain.

But not now, he warned himself.

_Don't remind yourself_.

This was his time to rest.

**6: 04**

The man in the black suit looked out of the window of the plane. The sun was slowly rising in the sky, a beautiful mix of red, yellow, and dark orange. It burned his eyes but he loved it. The rising of the sun signaled a new day. And a new day brought new adventures.

"Sir," a stewardess called him.

The man was jolted out of his reverie and he turned to face her.

"Coffee?" she asked. She was strikingly attractive. Not beautiful but she had her perks, the man thought.

"Um, yeah, sure."

"Cream?" she asked, her smile widening.

"No, black," he said plainly and smiled.

He didn't want her to think weirdly of him. She placed the coffee on his table and he nodded to her and looked back out of the window.

To accomplish today's goals, he needed to appear "normal". No suspicious activities unless they pertained to his mission.

The attendant was just a test. He could have wrung her neck for dragging him out of his dream but there were far too many people on the plane.

He knew his anger was uncontrollable. His mother had noticed it at a young age when, in an uncontrollable fit of rage, he had taken his teddy bear, which he had seemingly loved for months, and tore at its head until it ripped off. Later on in his life, he had begun getting into more violent acts. He was constantly in fights and was being expelled from every school. And then his mother, who he had despised all of his life, had taken him to that psychiatrist. He thought that that was the moment where he had finally snapped. The psychiatrist had told him that she understood him and his problems but he knew the truth. There was no person on this entire earth that understood how he felt, how much anger he felt when he woke up everyday to face a despicable world that had been covered in a blanket of fake happiness. At nineteen, he had murdered his mother with a small set of scissors that he had stole from the toolbox near her bed. She had screamed as he stabbed her but she didn't put up much of a struggle. When he finished he felt, surprisingly, an undescribable rush...almost a release of some of the anger he had kept deep inside him over the last decade. He knew he had to feel it again. So he killed and he killed and he killed. And that had eventually led him today. Today was a much larger operation and he knew that it would definitely be much more rewarding at the end. Today, everything was going to change. He was going to change it, along with the group of people he had hired, people who felt the exact same way. People who also wanted to leave this world with a blaze of glory. It was his job to lead them. He knew it was the purpose and meaning of his life.

So yes, he would watch the sun rise and sip his coffee. Until the moment that moment of greatness arrived. He knew it would come today and he was anticipating it with an unbelievable ecstasy. He couldn't wait. Ooh boy, he just _could not_ wait.

**6: 07**

Despite the early time, C.T.U. Los Angeles was alive and buzzing with activity. Memos, papers, and folders were shuffled around quickly. The quick tapping of keyboards could be heard in the background, amidst several arguments.

Chloe O'Brian tried to concentrate, amidst all the mindless noise, on her new assignment. She groaned as a female voice called her name.

"Chloe! Can you help me with this?" it shouted.

"Hang on!" she cried back.

She furiously typed in several passwords to log in to the C.T.U. information database and then stood up. It was Laura Milton, the newest recruit of C.T.U, who still hadn't understood how important respect was here. But Chloe didn't bother to smirk; she had been in the exact same position several years ago.

"What do you need, Laura?" Chloe asked.

"How I get into this?"

Chloe sighed and briskly paced herself to Laura's desk.

Laura was in her early-twenties and had just graduated from some college further east. According to rumors, she had been so intelligent and vibrant at her interview that she had been hired right at the spot. She had yet to prove her work skills to Chloe.

"No, no, Laura, you're doing it all wrong. Here…" she offered her help.

Before Laura could reply, Chloe's hands were over the keyboard, typing away. In a couple seconds, everything was set. Laura looked at her curiously and then nodded.

"Thanks, I guess," she told Chloe, who had already left for her desk. Laura realized that Chloe hadn't even heard her. Oh well.

**6: 09**

Steven Fields glanced up from his breakfast to take a peek at his T.V. A familiarfemale weather reporter was pointing at a weather map.

Damn, Fields thought. There would be rain later today. That would make his operation slightly more challenging. But not impossible.

_Impossible_. Impossible was a word Fields despised with all his heart. He hated everything about it. People had often told him that his plans were impossible. His dreams were impossible.They had always left that dead silence at the end of the word to signal that they wanted to prove a serious point. But Steven never believed anything they said. The only person who believed in Steven Fields was himself. That gave him his determination.

Today, however, was the day when the world would realize just how much a single man could accomplish. They would be surprised, he smirked, when they realized it had been the person they least expected. The one they had shunned and laughed at for their entire lives.

He heard the loud clang of the doorbell. It painfully rang through his ears, distracting him. He switched off the TV, brushed his hair back, and walked to the front door. He looked through the keyhole to make sure it was who he expected it to be.

Then, he opened the door.

"Fields?" the brawny man in front of himasked. He was chewing a big wad of tobacco and had a menacing feel to him.

Fields nodded.

"It's time," he said.

"May I have a moment?" asked Fields.

"Yes, but hurry," the man said, spitting. He had adangerous tone to his voice.

As Fields walked through every room of his house, memories came flooding back into his mind. Some had happened a week before, others several decades ago. He guessed it would probably be the last time he ever remembered his memories. After all, in a few hours, he would most likely be dead.

Fields left his home without locking the door. It didn't really matter that much. It was a peaceful neighborhood and he didn't have too many things of value. Plus, it wasn't like he was ever going to be anywhere near his house again.

The shining sun and the recently watered grass and several of the young kids marching to their bus stops gave a sense of serenity to the morning. He used to think this world was beautiful. Now---

"What are you doing?" the driver asked as he climbed into the pickup truck.

Fields climbed into the passenger seat asit quietly rolled off the driveway. As they were leaving, Fields' neighbor, a woman Fields greatly detested, waved to him and he smiled back.

Deep inside, however, he didn't have a single feeling of warmth towards her. She would only be one of the many people to die today.

**6: 13**

Jack had finished his coffee and was now taking a quiet stroll down the beach. Over the past ten minutes, activity had slightly increased. The siblings he had witnessed while leaving the hotel room were still in the water, splashing at each other, laughing.

A teenager was riding a motor boat and several adults were surfing in the distance. The sun shone down on all of them, glinting across the water.

Jack kicked some sand and laughed. It was weird how humans could find humor in the moststupid of things.

He smiledkindly at a lady with her son. He was strangely reminded of Kim, even though she didn't have any resemblance to the kid. He had wanted to take her on a vacation sometime. A place like this, where was no threat of being kidnapped or tortured or killed.

Jack quietly swerved off the path to step into a small kitchen. He didn't really feel like eating but a waiter quickly ushered him into a table. Oh well, Jack thought. As long as it was peaceful and quiet, he didn't mind doing anything. He had worked a long time before he could find both the time and money to take a month-long vacation.

Jack _did _enjoy the peace but he also missed the rush of stress that he hadconstantly had felt while working for C.T.U. It somehow broughtmeaning into his life, a purpose for getting up each day. He had established a great deal of enemies and he was lucky that they were all either dead or rotting in jail and were unable to disturb him now.

The waiter, smiling, served a dish and Jack thanked him.

_Relax_, he told himself. _Stop thinking about the past and focus on now._

The voices in his head were bickering now. They had been doing so for the last two weeks.

**6: 15**

Shannon Turner was preparing breakfast for herchildren. A nearby radio was playing light rock and she danced along and hummed quietly while she cooked.

Summer days were the best: the sun shining, the flowers in full bloom, and screams from swimming pools in the neighbors' yards echoing through her house. She loved it like this. Never a dull moment, when she thought about it.

Today would be a strenuous day for her, though. She would have to go shopping for groceries and do various errands. For the lucky rascals known as her kids, school was out and they were enjoying every single moment of it.

Ahh, this was the life.

She loaded several jars back into the refrigerator. If she worked quickly, she might return before they even woke up. She didn't want them wrecking havoc like they had done several days ago, raiding her personal drawers in search of money for ice cream.

They were tough to raise but she still loved them will all her heart.

Shannon carefully ran up the stairs and gave both of her children a good kiss goodbye before locking the door and leaving.

Just a regular day that would sprout many small problems. She sighed. She wouldn't have it any other way.

**6: 19**

The man in the black suit gazed at the small television above his seat. It was a computer display of the plane's course. Everything was on time; they would be arriving within the hour. So far, there had been no problems or delays in his plan. He loved when luck decided to visit him. It was funny how it could come in the worst times and make everything proper again. Luck was something that he would desperately call upon today to help him. Heck, he reconsidered, he would probably give up all his workers and partners in exchange for endless luck.

There was an old woman sitting in the seat near him, reading a magazine. As he had hoped, she hadn't uttered a single word to him since the flight had started. The eight-hour flight had even given him a chance to catch up on some sleep he needed.

The sun was now shining brightly through his windows, illuminating his face. The plane sailed through a display of crouds, occasionally dipping below and giving a quick peek at the ocean below them. He-

"Excuse me," the lady said, trying to spark his attention.

"Yes?" the man asked, not caring at all.

"Would you mind closing the shade? The sunlight is hurting my eyes," she requested plainly as her eyes met his.

He wanted to scream "No!" in her face, pull out his gun, and send her brains splattering all over the plane. Choking down the remark, he grinned, revealing his perfect white teeth.

"Of course. I'm sorry," he remarked and pulled down the shade. Like a perfect gentleman..

"Thank you," she said and turned her back to the magazine.

Good, the man thought. Nothing had come of it. Now---

"I'm Fran," she introduced herself, stretching out her wrinkledhand. She was old, he decided. At least eighty or so. Herhead was covered in a bush of white air and she carried a small black purse by her side.

The man hid his anger and shook her hand.

"Bob," he lied.

"Nice to meet you, Bob. Are you here on business or pleasure?"

The man thought it was actually pretty ironic.

"Both," he answered calmly.

"That's interesting," she said. "I'm here to spend the summer with my daughter."

"Really?" he asked, trying to reveal interest.

"Yes, she says Los Angeles is best during this time of year."

"Oh ok," he tried to finish the conversation.

"Have you been here before?" she asked.

_My god, woman, will you ever just shut up!_, the man wondered.

"No, I haven't," he lied again.

"Me neither. I'm looking forward to it."

He nodded and turned back toward the window.

"What do you do?" she asked.

He was boiling now. His cheeks had become a shade of red. He felt his hand curl into a fist and he hid it from her view, stuffing it into the small crack near his shit.

"I'm a company--," he started.

_Quick, make up something_.

"Well, uh, I just go around securing deals and such," he finished.

"Oh, that sounds interesting. You like it?"

"Yes, I do. Very much."

"I've been retired for several years now, Bob."

_Is she annoying me on purpose?_

"Good for you," he said, a slight bit of anger in his voice.

He was almost certain that she had sensed it. _Who did this woman think she was_?

"My husband passed away several years ago…," she whispered into his ear.

He groaned. It was going to be a long flight.

**6: 23**

Laura Milton's phone rang unexpectedly. She reached over and picked it up.

"Hel," she started but didn't get a chance to speak.

"This is Agent Powers. I managed to implant a tracking device on a car but it has escaped my sight. I need you to trace it through Server 2 and give me the coordinates. And keep me updated, damn it."

Laura was in shock for a moment.

"Hello?" the agent cried. "I need a response now!"

"Chloe!" Laura raised her voice.

"What?" a cry came from the other side of the room.

"How do I get into Server 2?"

"You can't. It's a code word!Oh, screw it."

Chloe was already running over and Laura felt herself sweating. She had gotten herself an unbeatable education, had received honors in all her classes, and had nailed this job on the spot…and she couldn't perform the most basic of tasks. She even knew that she could do it, but somehow some fear or nervousness always stopped her. She couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

"Look," Chloe said. "I can't always be helping you like this, Laura. I have my own job to do."

"I know, Chloe. I'm really sorry. It won't happen again," Laura responded.

"Good. Because if it does, I'm going to have to report to the Director."

Chloe walked back to her desk and Milton shook her head in bewilderment. What was happening with her?

**6: 26**

Peter Walker, security advisor to the President of the United States, slowly strolled through the barely lit hallway. No one was here at this time of morning except the security guards. He had had no problem getting past them.

There were dozens of rooms on both sides. Rooms thathadheld secrets and lies for at least fifty years, probably more. Walker was slightly frightened himself as he walked by each and every door. Here was the United States' history, all hidden in folders and drawers. Compromises, treaties, pacts.

Today, history would be made. Peter Walker would take part in it. He had to admit he was greatly anticipating it, had anticipated it every night for the last couple of months. He strongly believed in what he was going to do. And nobody could stop him.

He arrived at his destination: Room 362. He twisted the knob and, surprisingly, found it open. Most of the room was dusty and dark.It consisted mainly of overturned tables and computers. Peter revealed a flashlight. Soon, he was sneezing heavily. He searched under every crack and crevice until he found the cabinet. It was awfully heavy, he thought.

The top drawer contained nothing of value. Neither did the second. He opened the third…perfect! The folder was right there, unidentifiable amongst the others. A big red CONFIDENTIAL had been stamped on it.

He snatched it up and carried it out of the room. It was illegal and could land him in jail, he knew. Maybe, under the worstconditions, he could even be killed. But when he weighed the risks against the rewards, he knew that it was the right thing to do.

**6: 30 **

The pickup truck was reaching 70 miles per hour on the highway. Steven Fields was staring through the passenger window. It was so…plain. Just cars in front and behind him. It was exactly like this everyday. He hated this world. But he suddenly felt a tingle of regret. Did this really have to happen…?

RING!

Fields gasped suddenly, surprised. It was his cell phone. He pulled out of his pocket and put it to his ear.

"Yes?"

"Fields?" a familiar voice asked.

"Yeah, it's me," he answered.

"Did Red pick you up?"

Fields looked over to the beefy man driving the truck.

"Yeah."

"So everything's on plan?"

"Apparently."

"Good. He'll drive you to the lab. That's where your part of the job begins."

"I understand."

"I'll try not to call you too much. You should do the same. Only if it's an emergency. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Fields closed his phone and placed it back in his pocket.

"How much longer?" he asked Red.

"Probably an hour. Early morning traffic is a bit of delay."

"OK."

Fields turned back to the window. The sun was shining brightly. It was almost relaxing to look at it. A minivan passed by and he saw several kids jumping happily in it. This didn't have to happen, he thought. What had he gotten himself into?

**6: 34**

The swimming pool had just been opened and Jack had seized his opportunity to swim before more people arrived. Even if he was on vacation, he still had to stay in shape. Jack was very fit for his age and looked five years younger than he actually was. During many of his previous missions, he had almost destroyed his body. He forced himself to go through this rigorous training so he could complete challenges easily in the future. While in the water, Jack found himself quietly slipping away. His thoughts always lingered somewhere else. He often found himself reminded of Kim. She had loved splashing water at him as a child. But thoughts of Kim also reminded him of the stress and sheer fear he had experienced when she was in trouble. So he forced Kim out of his mind. Vacations weren't really made for him. In fact, none of his friends had recommended him going; he had made the decision completely by himself. He felt that it was the right time in his life to forget reality. He hadnever regretted becoming a C.T.U. agent. Swimming was part of his repetitive daily routine amd he was getting used to doing it every day.

The biggest lesson he had learned from his experience as a counter-terrorism agent was to expect the unexpected. Today would be the day when he realized just how true that was.

**6: 36**

Shannon Turner paced through the aisles of the 24-hour supermarket, picking up cereals and snacks for the kids.

Outside of the store, people were already setting up several activity booths with lots of those "Spin the Wheel, Win a Prize" games where what you paid to play cost more than the prize you won. Shannon laughed.

She made her way through the grain aisle and picked up some bread for the kids. She needed to get away herself for once. She loved her kids but she needed some time to herself.

Hmm…maybe a knight in shining armor would arrive and sweep her away.

**6: 39**

Peter Walker had managed to leave the records building without any of the guards checking him. The document was hidden safely in his suitcase. He doubted anyone would bother to search each and every room when a single document went missing.

Peter crossed into an alley where nobody could see him and began dialing his cell phone.

**6: 42**

"Attention, passengers," the captain's voice came through the speakers. "The plane will be landing shortly. Make sure your seatbelts are fastened and secure. Once we have landed, I will advise you how to exit the plane. Thank you for flying our airline. We hope you've enjoyed your flight and we look forward to seeing you again."

Fran had, luckily, quieted down a bit in the past twenty minutes but she still said something useless occasionally.

The man in the black suit had reopened the shade and now spotted the airport. It was bigger than he had expected.

"Beautiful, huh?" Fran asked.

"Sure," the man mindlessly agreed.

"Do you know any good places to eat? Just from guides?"

"Well, maybe a few. There's this Italian restaurant I like," he said, trying to fight her off.

She turned back to her magazine and she continued reading for several seconds. Then, her eyes filled with wonder as she realized something important andturned back to him.

"Bob?" she tried to capture his attention.

"Yes, Fran?"

"I thought you said you've never been to Los Angeles."

Bob groaned. He had messed up. A stupid mistake. He cursed under his breath.

"Well…" he started.

"Attention, all passengers. The plane is now landing. Please make sure to close your tables to lean back."

The men breathed in heavily as he felt the air pressure drop. Saved. Luck. He knew he was so close to failure. This couldn't happen again.

**6: 43**

Red swerved into an exit and Steven Fields was jerked out of his dream.

"LAX?" he inquired.

"Yeah. We have to pick up someone."

"Oh. Ok," Steven replied.

**6: 55**

The man in the black suit watched his bags shoot out of the chute. He quickly grabbed them before anybody could investigate them and was about to exit when he realized he had forgotten to do one thing.

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he entered the woman's bathroom. Fran stood in front of a mirror, applying lipstick and brushing her hair. Otherwise, the bathroom was empty.

The man locked the bathroom door and nimbly hid behind a stall before Fran could spy him. She stood staring in wonder for several seconds and then turned back to the mirror and zipped her purse.

She stepped into the stall and was about to lock it when the man in the black suit made his move.

Out of his bag, he revealed a long black wire. Stealthily sneaking up, he tossed the rope around Fran's neck and pulled with all his strength. She wasn't expecting it and she gasped as the air was whisked from her lungs.

"Ahh…," she groaned.

She couldn't even see him. He was enjoying every second, every moment of this.

He was experiencing a high like never before as she choked and gurgled. Then, she coughed, desperately seeking air. But he wouldn't let her breathe. He tied another circle around her throat and pulled harder. He had cut her pretty deep; dark red blood was oozing from her neck, destroying her white sweater. She fell to her knees, gasping. For several seconds, she made ugly retching sounds. And then she stopped breathing. Her body became rigid and motionless. The man in the black suit dropped her head and it fell onto the toilet seat.

He knew it was probably a big mistake to leave her like this. It had been a big mistake killing her in the first place. But she had been such a _bitch_.

He left the bathroom and exited the airport. Red and Steven were waiting for him. Perfect. They were on time.

"Hey, boss," Red said. "Need help with your bags?"

"Nah."

He loaded them into the back of the pickup and climbed into the backseat.

"Did Walker call you?"

"Yes, a couple of minutes ago. He got the documents."

"When will his flight arrive?"

"He said four hours."

"That's good."

Red stared blankly at him for a moment.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Move it along," the man in the black suit said.

The car rolled out of the parking lot. The man smiled. So far, everything was going according to plan.


	2. 7:00 AM : 8:00 AM

**24**

**The Conspiracy**

_By moviefreak2004_

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any characters of 24 and am using them solely for entertainment purposes.

NOTE: There is no exact place in the 24 timeline where this takes place.

**7:00 A.M. – 8:00 A.M.**

Laura Milton peeked out from her desk to spy on the new arrivals. Edgar Stiles, who was rumored to be Chloe's personal arch-rival, had just walked through the doors and placed his briefcase on his desk.

She personally didn't like him because of his arrogance towards everyone. Now, when she taught about it, Laura realized that she didn't have any friends at C.T.U. But today was only her first day on the job so she didn't worry about it. Besides, she didn't care if anybody wanted to be her friend. As she long as she was doing her job and she could afford to feed herself and pay her bills, everything was alright.

Oh no, Edgar was walking over to her. She ducked behind her desk and tried to focus on her assignment.

"Laura," he cried rudely.

"Yes, Edgar?" she inquired.

"I can't log in. Are you operating through line 3?"

"Yes," she asked, trying to show him to get to the point.

"We can't both be on at the same time," he said and followed the remark with a professional sigh.

"OK," Laura said. "Then, I'll get off and you can go on."

"That's good. Well, hurry up."

He walked away and Laura was filled with a bitter anger. He treated her like she had been working here for years and had to obey all of his orders. For once, she felt sorry for Chloe, who had probably had to deal with him for several months now.

She reminded herself that she was getting carried off. Back to her assignment...

**7: 02**

Peter Walker's fear was growing steadily in him. It seemed like everyone was watching him, keeping their eyes on his every act.

There was a screech of an upcoming train but as it passed in front of Walker he realized that, unfortunately, it wasn't his number.

Damn it, it wasn't going to come on time. He had a folder of high government documents hidden in his suitcase; the government reserved the right to kill him for stealing them.

Wait, wait, wait.

_Think this over_. _Nobody's staring at you. Why would they? You're not doing anything suspicious, are you? Now get up and stop your damn sweating. Then, you get on the train and go to the airport._

Paranoid. He was just paranoid. There was no reason to be scared. They were only morning commuters. They didn't bother to take a look around and notice anybody.

Another screech suddenly followed and Peter Walker found himself staring at his train. He cursed in happiness under his breath and felt some of his fear dissipate.

After entering the train, he took an empty seat in the back.

_Nothing to be afraid of. Nothing at all…_

**7: 02**

Ray Harrison glanced up at the clock on his wall. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. He was beginning to get tired of that noise.

His wife, Dana, was sitting across the table, reading a newspaper as she was digging into a bowl of cereal.

Ray was in his mid-30's and fit for his age. A short of dark brown hair ran down to above his eyes.

"Honey?"

"Yes," she warmly acknowledged him and lifted her head up.

"Um, I..."

He could have to make the lie sound convincing in order for her not to get suspicious.

"I, uh, got a couple reports I need to finish up at work. My boss won't really, uh, let me go. I think I'll probably be home later than expected."

Dana sighed loudly and dropped the newspaper.

"Ray," she almost yelled. "This is the second time this week! The kids"

"Look, I know, Dana," he tried to console her. "But this is my job…"

"Ray, you can't just leave them like this. They deserve as much of an explanation as I do. Do you know the look on their faces when you don't come home?"

"I understand but you can't just expect us to have this house or have this food on our table if I don't go."

"Ray…"

He raised his hands to protest whatever she was going to say.

"Ray, I'm not mad at you. I just…I just think you should balance your work life and personal life a little better. Spend a bit more time with them on the weekends. I'll tell them myself. You better be off. You're already running late."

She quickly ushered him out of the house and locked the door. Dana knew her kids were going to be disappointed but she was sure she could buy them some toy or video game to distract them.

Outside, he grinned happily. He loved his wife and children dearly. It was a shame he was going to have to kill them…

**7: 06**

The man in the black suit was finding the ride extremely uncomfortable. The truck often dipped right into potholes and it would jump. His arm would hit the seat and he would wince in pain.

"Damn it, Red!" he yelled. "Where the hell did you get this ride?"

"Sorry, boss," laughed Red. "Just a couple more minutes now."

"So…um?" Steven Fields inquired. "Where exactly are we going?"

"We have a hideout," answered the man in the black suit. "We'll need to go through each stage of the operation quickly if we want to be successful."

"I believe Walker's already on his way to the airport, sir," Red included.

"That's good. He'll be here at around ten or eleven, right?"

"Yes, sir. You shouldn't worry."

The man in the black suit suddenly laughed and reached out to tap Red's shoulder.

"Heck, Red," he started. "Every man would be worried to fail after working a decade on something."

"You picked a good team, boss. We'll do our best for you."

The man in the black suit believed him.

"Yes, Red. Yes, they will."

The truck continued driving down the highway.

**7: 08**

Jack Bauer wrapped a fluffy white towel around him as he climbed out of the pool. It had been a pretty cold swim but he had enjoyed every moment of it. He had cleared his head like he had planned to. He walked barefoot to the bar, where he ordered a quick tequila. It went pleasantly down his throat. He ordered another one. He could afford to overload today.

Walking down the beach, Jack spied a volleyball game. There were some kids in there, but most of them were adults.

"Hey!" a voice cried out.

Jack wasn't sure if he was being called.

"Yeah, you!"

It was one of the adult males. Jack noticed his slim figure.

"We need a player!" he cried. "You wanna play?"

Jack glanced around to look for another activity. He shrugged and walked over to the volleyball court.

"Oh no, you're not on my team," the man almost boastfully told Jack.

Jack slid under the net to the other side.

"What's your name?" the man screamed.

Jack lifted his head up and looked him in the eyes.

"Jack Bauer," he said plainly.

"Well, Jack, are you any good?"

Shrugging once again, Jack bent his knees and stood in position, awaiting the ball.

The man, who Jack had already grown to dislike with a passion, backed up a bit. He tossed the ball and it whirled as it sailed up. As it came down, he brought his open hand from behind his shoulder and smashed it. Spinning, it quickly flew over the fence.

Jack kept his eyes on it. He sidestepped, leaped, and smashed the ball with an open fist. It flew back over the net and smashed a crater into the sand.

The man stood in bewilderment.

"Let's see that again, cowboy!" he bellowed as he blasted the ball again.

Jack responded exactly as he had done in the previous play, except this time he managed to pass it along to another opponent, a little girl, who hit it over the net.

As it was falling, the man screamed at his opponents and pushed through them. Luckily for him, he got there in time to hit the ball back.

"Hey, let the kids have a hit!" someone cried. The man didn't bother to listen.

Jack watched as a member of his team dove and bumped the ball up before it hit the sand. Jack, operating on his instinct, followed and hit it over the net.

The man was trying to prove his importance to both Jack and his team. He was crazily jogging around the entire court trying to cover the ball. By now, most of the parents and children on his team had grown agitated.

The wind gave him an extra push and the man barely managed to nail the ball. It cut through the air with a WHOOSH and barely tipped over the net. Jack watched gladly as a little boy no older than ten hit the ball and laughed with happiness.

The man could not believe he was losing. Most of his team had already left the court and were watching from the sidelines. The man's body grazed the sand as he hit the ball. It landed in the net and bounced back into the sand.

Somebody offered Jack a high-five and he gladly accepted.

"Nice job, man!" one of the teenagers said.

The man was fuming now.

"Ok, just me and Jack now."

Eager to see the match, Jack's team stepped off the court and joined the growing crowd of onlookers.

"Show me what you got, Jack!" he shrieked. He pounded the ball with all the force in his fingers. It flew high into the air, pivoted, and began plummeting back to earth.

Jack was breathing heavily now. His legs began moving around quickly. Watching the ball and the shadow on the ground, Jack placed himself directly below it and whacked it back up. The man gasped as he suddenly slipped on the sand and fell. The ball bonked him as he tried to lift his head up and he groaned. The crowd laughed at their former leader, who was spitting sand heavily out of his mouth. When he was done, he shook himself until the sand fell back and locked eyes with Jack.

"I'm not warmed up!" he tried to make an excuse for losing. "Tomorrow, we'll see."

Jack didn't bother to laugh. He kicked the ball into his arms.

"Hey, mister, how about another game?" a boy asked. The crowd nodded their heads behind him.

_What the heck_, Jack thought. _Live life_.

**7: 11**

Shannon Turner was ahead of schedule and pleased. She checked her watch. Good. She had expected to finish twenty minutes later. Loading the groceries into the car, Shannon observed the early morning activity. Shops were only beginning to open at this time of morning. Shannon breathed in the fresh morning air and was at ease. There was no time to rest, however. She slipped into her car and twisted the key into the engine.

**7: 15**

Thomas Turner's eyes snapped open and he found himself staring at the light blue ceiling. Awake. He was awake. He slowly rolled over onto his chest and stretched his head. Pulling his blankets off, he stood up and yawned loudly. It echoed throughout the house.

He quietly tiptoed out of his room. As he was about to proceed down the stairs to the first floor, he remembered to do something. Stealthily, he sneaked to his sister's room. Grasping the doorknob, he slowly pulled it over. It creaked ever so slightly but he doubted that she would awaken. She_ was _asleep and looking pretty peaceful at that. She wouldn't wake up.

He almost crawled down the stairs, trying to sense if his mother had left. Hearing no footsteps or sounds, he entered the kitchen. Empty. She had left him and his sister a couple sandwiches. He guessed that she had predicted that he would wake up much later. He grinned. She didn't know anything about him.

After munching down the sandwich, he brought over a chair to be able to reach the top cabinet of his kitchen, where all the snacks were hidden. Seconds later, he had perfectly laid out several bags of potato chips, pretzels, cookies, and popcorn.

He licked his tongue rapidly around his lips, wondering what he should eat first. He decided on the popcorn and placed it carefully in the microwave. When it was done, he spilled it into a large bowl, flipped on his TV, sank onto the comfortable couch, and started watching cartoons.

Ha ha. Now neither his sister nor his mother could possibly stop him.

**7: 18**

The pickup truck swerved into an exit. Steven Fields had begun feeling sick in the last half hour. He had never had a chance to start a family or have kids. Was he really going to end his life today for this purpose? He thought that he had understood it perfectly. He still despised the world and its people. But was this the way to express his feelings, to make his voice heard? He decided to let it go and wait for the truck to arrive. He wasn't even sure himself exactly what role he would part in today's events.

The truck pulled up to a small building consisting of two floors. A man standing guard outside nodded to Red as he pulled into the small parking lot under the building.

Fields glanced over to the man in the black suit. Now that he thought about it, he remembered that he had never actually asked him what his name was. Now was not the time for introductions, however. But he would definitely ask later.

The car suddenly stopped. It was time.

Red bounced out of the car, shutting the door with a bang. He opened the back door and the man in the black suit stepped out.

"Thank you, Red," he warmly said.

Fields followed Red and the man in the black suit as they crossed over to a door. Red reached out and pushed it forward while the man stepped through. Fields looked up. Two floors of stairs.

As they were making their way up, the man in the black suit suddenly spoke: "Steven, you get off here at the first floor. I'll get Red set up on the second and then I'll report to you for your assignment. This will be our base of operations for today. Understood?"

Steven gulped and nodded. He pushed through the door. He was not quite sure of what to make of this room. On one corner, there was a small laboratory station. On the other, several cardboard boxes, many of them ripped, were stacked against the wall. The rest of the room was empty. It was a big room, though; anything could take place in here.

**7: 23**

Pierre Bedeau adjusted his tie, humming under his breath. He tugged on it several times to make sure it was secure and decided that he was done. He looked into the mirror in front of him and what he saw differed from what he had seen yesterday. Yesterday, there had been a shaky, nervous man who had been unable to do anything or meet anyone without shyness and regret. Today, for once in his life, Pierre Bedeau was sure of himself. He was confident. However, nothing had pleased him more than the feeling of worthiness, knowing that somewhere in the world someone was depending on him and only him. He had been lucky enough to receive this opportunity of a lifetime. Now, he had to act out on it, fulfill his part of the deal. The man in the mirror today looked five years younger than he was. A big, happy smile was on his face. Pierre reached down and his fingers curled around the handle of his briefcase. He lifted it up and was about to leave the bathroom when he felt one last urge to take a look at the man in the mirror. But no, he told himself, enough was enough. _You'll be late if you don't leave immediately. Do you understand that, Pierre? Do you?_ As he left his house, he felt a need to smile at everyone and everything. He was in pure ecstasy and he knew it would be a short time before it would fade away. _Straighten up, make sure you're comfortable, and complete your objective, Bedeau. Yes. Yes. Do not let them down._

**7: 24**

C.T.U. Lead Agent of Operations Louis Powers had returned from another undercover drug bust and had brought several infamous drug dealers with him. Laura Milton watched from behind her desk as Powers carried two of the screaming criminals into the interrogation rooms.

He didn't even seem to notice their cries, which consisted mainly of the predictable "I want my lawyer" or "I'm gonna sue you to the ground!". Powers was emotionless as he dragged them along. He was the best of the best.When they were safely tucked away, Powers emerged.

He looked around the entire complex with interest.

"Agent Powers, do you need help?" Laura offered.

He looked over to her with a puzzled look.

"No, just haven't…ever had the time to really examine this place," he answered.

He began walking away but then abruptly stopped, turned back, and walked over to her desk.

"Say, are you new here?" he asked.

"Yeah, why?" she answered, a small grin emerging on her face.

"I'm just wondering. Rumor has it that you're going to replace Edgar as soon as he gets fired."

Laura was shocked and surprised at Powers' remark.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Powers confirmed it. "Edgar hasn't been doing such a great job lately. It seems he can't do more than one job at a time. In a time of crisis, we need a kind of person who can."

Laura didn't know what to think. She was sure Powers wasn't lying; he was trusted by almost everyone by C.T.U. But how would Edgar take it? She did find him annoying and wished he wasn't always bugging her about everything. But somehow, she taught that he would blame her if he lost his job. He always considered himself better than any desk agent in C.T.U. He was far from that but he certainly possessed many skills that had helped C.T.U. in the past.

"So…um…who are you again?" he asked with a grin.

"Milton…Laura Milton," she replied as she shook his outstretched hand.

"Powers…Louis Powers," he told her without her asking. She didn't mind.

"I know. I've heard much about you," she said.

"Well, it's been nice talking to you. I probably have to go. The end of one assignment always means the beginning of another. Talk to you later."

As he was jogging to the exit, an agent handed him a folder. After peeking inside, Powers nodded to the other agent and was soon out the door.

**7: 26**

Jack Bauer, after an exhausting game of volleyball, had gone to the bar to wash away his dry thirst with a beer. Sitting on a stool, he noticed the player he had embarrassed earlier coming towards him and he immediately turned away. Too late…

"That was some game today, buddy," the man said as he sat down. He turned to the bartender. "Beer."

Jack sipped a bit and turned to face him.

"Where'd you learn to play like that?" the man asked.

Jack shrugged.

"No, seriously?" the man continued, almost as if he thought Jack was hiding something from him.

"Honestly. I've barely played before," Jack responded.

"Ok. Ok. Be that way. I understand."

The bartender handed him the beer. He didn't bother to thank him.

"You married?" the man asked.

Jack laughed. Why was this guy trying to dig up his past? What did this have to do with volleyball?

"Used to be. She was killed," he said, trying to scare the man away. But he didn't even flinch. He thought it was a joke.

"My, my, my, you're just full of surprises. Next thing you're going to tell me is that you're some kind of secret agent who's saved the world a couple of times, right?"

Jack stifled a laugh.

"Nah," Jack said. He wasn't allowed to talk much about C.T.U. at all.

"I'm a real estate agent," the man said.

"I didn't ask," Jack replied.

The man was surprised by the rude remark. He was about to say something, probably an insult, but then turned away.

"Well, it was nice talking to you, Jack," he cried as he walked away with the beer in his hand.

Jack looked down at his glass. It was empty. Had he really drank it all? He raised his hand to signal the bartender.

"One more," Jack croaked when the bartender arrived.

**7: 30**

Louis Powers drove the car carefully into the courtyard of the mansion. He looked at his watch and realized he was ahead of schedule. It looked like he would have to wait an extra five minutes. Oh well. It was always better to be early than late.

**7: 33**

Head of F.B.I. Operations Specialist Andrew Carter buttoned up his expensive one-of-a-kind suit. It had been cleaned only a few hours ago and it was fitting for today. Today, hopefully, the entire slate would be wiped clean. Carter would present his speech on crime enforcement today and attempt to explain all of the recent rumors of corruption and murder inside the F.B.I. Carter believed in the men and women who worked for him and he couldn't stand watching them being lied about by the media. Clearing his throat, he looked in the mirror.

"That's it, Andy. Last chance to do anything," he said to himself. Nothing came to mind.

Wiping his face once again, Carter began the walk down to the front door.

**7: 35**

Carter opened the door and climbed into the luxury car. It was definitely fit for him. Comfortable, warm but not hot, and, of course, bullet-proof.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Carter," the agent said to him and offered his hand. "I'm Louis Powers. I've been assigned to make sure you're comfortable and safe for the ride there and back."

"C.T.U.?" Carter inquired as he shook Powers' hand.

"Yes, sir. We're working with the F.B.I. as well."

"Good. Then, I know I can trust you."

Powers grinned as he started the car engine up.

"Where to?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, the speech is not for another hour. I was thinking maybe we could stop for a quick bite to eat somewhere if possible."

"Anything's possible, sir. A quick bite it is," Powers responded to the request.

Gripping the seat and looking behind him, Powers slowly backed the car out of the courtyard and out of the open gates onto the street. Quickly twisting the wheel, Powers moved the wheels and the car was off.

He never noticed the small car parked on the street. The car that, suddenly, became alive with an engine roar and started following them…

**7: 39**

Shannon Turner drove her car into the parking lot of the shoe store. It hadn't been part of her schedule but she decided that she had to at least do something with her extra time. After all, her kids were sleeping.

She browsed the aisles, occasionally picking up a shoe case and examining the footwear inside. She sighed. Every pair either didn't fit her tastes or was simply too overpriced for her budget.

She still had half an hour of free time when she emerged out of the store. Hmm, a good meal would certainly get the rumbling in her stomach to stop. It seemed that in her quick haste to prepare sandwiches for her children, she had completely forgotten to feed herself.

In less than five minutes, Shannon was back out on the main road, heading towards a local coffee shop.

**7: 44**

Jack Bauer had watched the crowd as they had gotten bored and left the volleyball court. Had he really brought fun into their lives? The only thing he had brought into everybody's hearts in the past couple months was misery and sadness. Whenever Jack tried to forget his past, it always somehow caught up with him.

"Damn it!" Jack cried out suddenly. A mother leaned down to say something to her boy and then dragged him away from Jack, as if he was some sort of bad influence.

Jack walked over to the main desk, where he asked if there were any new emails or phone messages for him.

The plump attendant looked over at him.

"Nope, sorry, Mr. Bauer."

Jack rested his arm against the desk. Was it possible that he had been forgotten? _No, of course not. You wanted to be in peace. And that is precisely what you got. No one's interrupting you with their problems. This is your vacation. Stop checking for new messages every hour and go enjoy yourself._

The voices in his head were arguing again.

Jack proceeded back onto the beach. He settled into a comfortable beach chair and revealed a mystery novel he had picked up before leaving. Maybe this would help him relax…

**7: 47**

Laura Milton knew that she had warmed up. She was handling all of her tasks quickly and efficiently, without even a single urge to call out to Chloe for assistance. By nine o'clock, C.T.U. would be in full swing. Maybe if she completed her tasks ahead of time now, she wouldn't have as much work later on in the day when she usually got tired. And...

Wait a minute.

A window had popped up on her computer screen. It asked her to enter her username and password. But she had just been logged in a minute ago. Well, she didn't mind logging in again.

Her fingers raced around the keyboard. When she was done, she clicked the OK button. A big popup message was unveiled:

**ACCESS DENIED.**

What? What the hell was happening?

She typed in her username and password again. She knew it was correct. She has selected it personally.

She pressed Enter.

**ACCESS DENIED**.

Grumbling, Laura stood up to call Chloe to her rescue.

**7: 52**

"Coffee and a treat?" Powers asked as he stopped his car in front of the coffee shop.

"Sounds fabulous," replied Carter. He was nearing sixty, Powers now, and was one of the most experienced agents in any agency. With his assistance, hundreds of murderers had been put in jail.

They entered the shop together. Powers' eyes immediately darted around the small café, checking for anything out of place. Seeing anything, he ordered two cappuccinos and a Danish.

They sat a table and Carter started talking.

"How long have you been in the business, Mr. Powers?" he asked inquisitively.

"Um…I'd say a good seven years," Powers answered.

"It gets tough, right?"

"Sometimes. But I expected it to be this way."

"Yeah, same here. Sometimes, I almost want to quit. But if I don't do it, who will?"

Powers completely agreed. He nodded his head.

"If you don't mind me asking," Carter started. When he saw Powers nod again, he continued, "Are you married?"

"Nah."

"Oh. Dating?"

"Nah…but there's this one girl I like."

"Really? Tell me about her."

Powers shied away but then decided to reveal his secrets. He had to, of course, make his target feel comfortable.

"Her name's Laura Milton. She works at C.T.U. A desk job."

"Not bad, not bad at all. Is she prettyl?"

"Yeah, very," Powers answered, unsure now why he was revealing his personal info to Carter.

"Well, good luck with that," Carter finished.

They both smiled and continued drinking.

**7: 55**

Pierre Bedeau parked his small car right behind Powers'. As he walked into the café carrying the briefcase, he felt himself at ease. Nothing could stop him. He was invincible His eyes darted around the small room. Carter and Powers were seated at a table in the middle of room. Bedeau casually walked over to their table. Powers' eyes quickly noticed him while Carter took a bit more time.

Powers noticed the suitcase and his eyes filled with cold fear. But there wasn't enough time. Pierre put the suitcase on the table and opened it.

**7: 58**

Shannon Turner witnessed the explosion from several yards away. Shattered glass flew in all directions. The roof sign collapsed onto the ground, breaking off into two pieces. Cries filled the empty air.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my Good," a crying woman near Shannon shrieked.

People lit on fire were crawling out of the café but she knew there was no chance they would survive. The entire place was burning.

"Don't go close. Somebody call an ambulance," a man screamed.

He was cradling his child's head in his shirt. Reality set into Shannon.

_This was actually happening._

She felt a wave of nausea coming on and tried to breathe. A faint smell of burning flesh filled her nose. And she fainted, falling silently to the ground.

Nobody could help her. Everyone was paying attention to the destruction.

**7: 59**

The man in the black suit dialed a number on his cell phone. He didn't receive any answer. Turning to Red smiling, he said, "Pierre's not responding. He's done his part of the mission successfully."

Red suddenly laughed. The man in the black suit joined along.

Moments later, the man in the black suit had used the stairs to get to the lower floor. Walking into the room, he saw Steven Fields leaning against a wall. He looked incredibly nervous.

"Steven?"

"Yes, sir?" Steven responded.

"You must listen very carefully to what I tell you. This is what you must do…"


	3. 8:00 AM : 9:00 AM

**24**

**The Conspiracy**

_By moviefreak2004/movieman2400_

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any characters of 24 and am using them solely for entertainment purposes.

NOTE: There is no exact place in the 24 timeline where this takes place.

**8:00 A.M. – 9:00 A.M.**

Sirens could be heard nearby. Panic had spread through the entire plaza. Roasted bodies were lying motionlessly on broken glass outside of the building that, five minutes ago, had been a café. A daring businessman had entered the fray in hopes of finding a survivor but had only found death. The person working behind the register had had most of lip burned off and was bleeding intensely from the eyes. The businessman grew afraid for his own health and ran out of the café. When he was safely away from the disgusting smell, he found a public trash can and threw up everything that he had eaten today.

Shannon, in a world between unconsciousness and death, did not know she was feeling. She knew she was weak and having trouble of breathing. But she wasn't dead. She tried to force her fingers to move, to at least give her a sign that she was not dead. But her fingers didn't move.

There were crowds running past her, away from the destruction.

She gasped, trying to exclaim for help but only found herself in desperate need of breath. Crawl. That's it! She needed to crawl! Back to the kids! It was all a dream. This wasn't happening. She was imagining it. She was going to close her eyes and when she opened them, everything would be ok. The café would be just as it always was. Nobody would be dead.

She closed her eyes and held them shut for several seconds. She opened them. The situation hasn't changed. Her kids. Were her kids ok? Oh, please god.

She was emitting strange noises. Was it her that was breathing so heavily?

"Hel---" she struggled to say.

Luckily, a man of around fifty years of age, spotted her and dipped down to lift her head.

"Are you ok, miss?" he asked with care in his voice.

"Help," she managed to choke out.

He grabbed her arm instantly and tossed it over his shoulder.

"You're going to be alright, miss," he said convincingly.

Shannon found that her legs were not properly functioning. She was limping. _What? Straighten up_. She raised her head up. Many shoppers had heard the loud boom and had rushed out to see the cause. An old woman stood with her hand pressed tightly against her mouth.

"Come on, miss!" the man cried.

When they were behind a building, he let her rest against a wall.

"Have you been hurt?" the man asked, worry in his voice.

"I…I…," she stuttered. "I just fainted…don't remember anything else."

"We need to get you to the hospital," the man said loudly, to make sure she had heard him.

Shannon gulped and felt something come up her throat. Coughing, she forced it down. She felt terrible.

Her only hope of survival lay in the hands of the stranger that she had just met…

**8: 03**

"We've lost contact from Agent Powers!" Edgar cried from the other side of the room.

A frenzy was instilled in the air of C.T.U. Bodies hustled around, reporting up-to-the-minute information to each other.

"Did you hear…?"

"Oh my God, he's dead?"

"Powers? Louis Powers?"

All of the agents at C.T.U. refused to believe that Powers was dead. It couldn't be. He was the most trained, most prepared agent on the force. The shock had grown in Laura Milton as well. She had been the last C.T.U. agent to have talked to him. And now Powers, the gentle agent who was also one of the most brutal law enforcers anywhere, was burned to a crisp. It wasn't happening. As long as she was alive, she refused to believe it. But as the seconds and minutes passed and more witness accounts began piling in, she realized that it was really happening.

She couldn't cry because of this, right? After all, she had just talked to him once and only for a couple minutes. She tried to hold it back but, ultimately, couldn't. After several painful seconds, a wet, cold tear slowly trickled down her cheek.

**8: 05**

Ray Harrison glanced around him to see if he was being followed. Noticing nothing, he speed-dialed a number on his cell phone and hid himself behind the wall of a restaurant.

"Yes?" a familiar voice came on.

"Did Bedeau succeed?" Ray asked.

"Yes. Both Carter and Powers are dead."

"Then I guess it's time for me to do my part."

"Be strong, Ray," the man said and hung up.

Ray put the cell phone back into his coat pocket. Lighting a cigarette, Ray went back into his car and drove off.

**8: 06**

Jack Bauer had been asked to participate in a small tennis watch and he had, politely, agreed. He could still feel a tingle of pain in his legs from the straining volleyball match but he easily ignored it, focusing on the moment. The mother of the boy Jack had already grown to admire and trust was busily keeping the ball bouncing up and down on her racket. She appealed to Jack; she was cute, funny, and down to earth.

"Hey, let's start this match," he called out, trying not to sound rude.

"Ok, but you asked for it, Mr. Bauer," she yelped and smashed the ball.

**8: 07**

Steven Fields swung open the building door and almost whimpered when he breathed in the sweet, fresh air. He had been sweating profusely ever since he had arrived at this dreadful place. He had already made his decision; he did not want to participate even in the smallest of activities associated with the events that would change the world today. Years ago, while in college, Fields had grown to hate the world with an unbelievable passion that was only fueled by the constant insults and threats from other students. He had learned to ignore their cries and proceeded on with life, earning a successful job. But loneliness was what got to him. He had never been great with women but he had expected to at least meet his soul mate before he turned thirty. Now, the birthday was fast approaching and he had decided, in angst, that there was no point waiting and hoping for a miracle. He would end his life in a desperate effort to show the world, to prove the world that he was useful for something, useful to someone. That was the way many of the volunteers of the project had felt when they had joined. Steven remembered that Pierre Bedeau's, who was now dead, sole motivation in joining was to prove his worthiness to his friends, the world, and most importantly, himself. Somehow, Steven felt that, despite death, Pierre had experienced that euphoria. And he wanted to experience it himself. But did thousands, even millions, of people have to die for him to prove his point? He was just one person. He could go home, take out the small silver revolver he held in the shoebox in his closet, put it to his head, and pull the trigger. Did he have to do this? Did it really have to happen? He knew he had to do something. He knew he had to ---

"Steven?" a familiar voice came from behind him and Steven whirled around in alertness. The man in the black suit stood before him, an expression of puzzlement on his face. "What are you doing? You were supposed to have left several minutes ago."

Steven searched his mind for an answer.

"Sorry, sir, I got caught up in something. I'll go now," he lied as he slid his key into the front door.

The man in the black suit stood motionless for what seemed like an eternity and then turned around and marched back into the hideout.

Still thinking, Steven backed the car out of the parking lot. _He would stop it himself_.

**8: 10**

Shannon felt blood trickling down her knees. She looked at the man sitting next to her, who was quickly slamming the steering wheel left and right, weaving dangerously through several long lanes of traffic.

"Could you---could you go a bit slower?" she requested silently.

"I'm sorry, miss. We have to get you to a hospital as soon as possible. You're in very bad condition."

Many of the busy commuters were staring in both hostility and bewilderment at the speeding car that was backing into their lane and then another and another. One man was even so courageous to honk the horn, open his window, and spray a chain of offensive words.

The man, surprisingly, didn't seem to notice any bit of the commotion around him. In fact, he was humming. Humming some strange tune that brought several childhood memories back to Shannon. She felt some of her pain die away as she remembered her childhood friends and adventures. She couldn't quite remember the song but she knew that, at some point in her life, it had been important to her. She dropped the thought and focused on the moment. Reality hadn't completely set in; she realized that she was in a car with a complete stranger. But she felt comfortable and safe. This man was her knight in shining armor; an angel sent down from the heavens to sweep her off her feet and bring her to a place of peace and harmony. Closing her eyes, Shannon rested her head and began to doze.

**8: 13**

All of C.T.U. had been alerted about the unbelievable accident that had some fifteen minutes ago. Chloe seemed to be steaming.

"Edgar!" she cried from her desk.

"What is it, Chloe?" Edgar retaliated.

"You're still running everything everything through kernel two," Chloe said back. Laura only understood part of the computer language but she could sense the annoyance in Chloe's voice.

"I'm sorry, jeez," Edgar stuttered.

"Laura!" Chloe called.

Shuffling several papers off her lap, Laura stretched her arms and picked herself up off the chair. She jogged off to Chloe, wondering if she was going to be handed yet another assignment.

"Yes, Chloe?" Laura asked when she arrived.

"You know about the Powers incident, right?" Chloe inquired stupidly.

Laura scanned the frantic room.

"It's hard to find anyone here that hasn't. It's sad---"

"Yeah, the point is…we're afraid the media are going to get this. Some rumors are starting that C.T.U.'s going to bring in someone to guide us. You know…a Special Agent."

Laura was a bit confused why Chloe would unexpectedly reveal this to her.

"Just, you know, look sharp when he or she arrives," Chloe finished and turned back to her keyboard.

"Um…actually, Chloe…I have a bit of a problem."

Chloe turned back around.

"I was afraid to ask you but I really need your help. I just got locked out and can't log in. I've tried everything for the last ten minutes and just…"

Chloe sighed and accompanied Laura back to her desk. As Chloe began investigating, Laura started uttering various excuses but seeing that Chloe was not listening, she stopped.

Chloe's patience had been tried in the last hour, ever since the dreaded arrival of Edgar Stiles. She swore that if Driscoll was still in place, she would use every single ounce of strength in her body to get him fired for his intolerable inexperience. Who did he think he was telling her, who had worked at C.T.U. for several years ago, that she was wrong? It pissed her off.

Laura stared at Chloe's nimble movements. She spied Chloe's tired face and was surprised to find an expression of wonder.

"I'm not sure what's wrong," Chloe said, tapping her hands on the desk. "Just go on another computer and tell me if it doesn't work, alright?"

"Chloe!" a resounding scream arose from the other side of the room.

"What is it, Edgar?" Chloe vociferated.

"Something's wrong, Chloe. I can't log in!" Edgar's plea for help came in an instant.

Chloe and Laura looked at each other and rushed to check the problem.

**8: 17**

Peter Walker sat sipping a small whiskey. The plane had left the ground several minutes ago and the passengers were just becoming comfortable. He supposed someone had recognized him. He had chosen to stay out of the limelight, only delivering speeches when they were most needed. Come to think of it, he realized, his face had appeared everywhere from news programs on TV to magazines. And once again, a fear awakened in the back of his mind, warning him. The whiskey was slowly taking its effect. His eyes were tired, he hadn't slept for several days now. Finally, his body gave up and he slept.

**8: 20**

The doors of C.T.U. burst open and heads all over the floor turned to meet the arriver. A tall man walked into the room, surrounded by two agents. He was wearing a gray suit and looked troubled. His head was empty of hair and he brought across a sense of power.

Coughing, he straightened himself and spoke in a loud voice.

"Attention," he cried out. "My name is George Bridges and I will be serving temporarily as your Special Agent in Charge. You will report all your findings to me. I don't know you and I'm pretty sure you do not know me. But we are in a middle of a small crisis and I will need all of your cooperation and help to sort it out. Treat me as you would any former Special Agent."

Laura sensed that he unsure of how to finish. He simply left it at that and strolled up a small set of stairs to the upper area, where his new office was located.

Standing beside her, Chloe was tapping random keys on Edward's keyboards. But the same message that had appeared on Laura's screen half an hour ago was now flashing on Edwards. What was happening? Perhaps it was some kind of internal glitch, Laura thought.

She felt a sense of uselessness standing next to Chloe, unable to do anything. She hadn't been trained for this to happen. She hadn't even completely adapted to C.T.U.'s computers and servers and tech. Being inexperienced in a world of professionals was a bit of a bother.

She stood watching, hoping dearly that this would be her last problem of the day.

**8: 23**

Jack Bauer turned his eyes slowly to the left. Somebody was walking towards him. He couldn't quite make him out from this distance. Glaring, he missed a ball and it whizzed by his side.

"Jack?" the woman asked. "Are you alright?"

"Hang on a second," Jack said, holding out his hand to motion that she was not to follow him.

He made his way to the man and realized that it was the attendant at the front desk.

"Mr. Bauer?" he asked.

"Yes," Jack answered.

"Follow me, please. There's a caller waiting at the front desk."

As Jack followed the man, his mind started racing. Who would be calling him now? Didn't he ask to be kept undisturbed? What was going on? Was it about Kim? He forced the thought out of his mind. No, it couldn't be about Kim. Kim was safe.

The walk to the front desk seemed unusually long. When Jack arrived, he grasped the telephone angrily and lifted it to his ear, trying to keep his voice down.

"Hello!" Jack said. "Who is this?"

A single word came from the voice on the other end.

"Jack."

"Who is this?" Jack asked again.

"Jack, this is George Bridges."

The name sparked something in Jack's mind. He had heard it before, perhaps from one of his partners.

"George Bridges?" Jack asked.

"Yes, I have been put in as a temporary Special Agent in Charge at C.T.U.," Bridges said.

"What?"

"It seems we have a bit of an emergency here and I was wondering if you could help me out a bit."

"What?"

"There was an explosion about a half an hour ago. It's all over the news, Jack. You haven't heard?"

The attendant nodded at Jack, confirming what Bridges has just said.

"An explosion?" Jack silently said, ruffling his hair. "Has Kim been hurt?"

"No, it's not about Kim. It's about you, actually. We need your help."

"My help?"

"Yes. This explosion killed our top agent, Louis Powers. I trust you are familiar with him."

"Yes, I've worked with him before."

"You see, Jack, since I was just brought in, I do not know anybody here."

"Get to the point," Jack growled.

"I was thinking that maybe…," Bridges stopped for a second. "Perhaps you can come in and help me a bit. You know, lead them. Nothing else."

"In case you haven't heard, I'm on vacation."

Jack was fuming now. It was an explosion. Tragic, yes. But nothing that the talented group at C.T.U. couldn't handle.

"Jack, everybody here needs your help. We're afraid---we're afraid this may only be the beginning."

"Excuse me?"

Jack wasn't sure he was hearing everything correctly.

"We're afraid there's going to be more attacks. This was just the beginning. Or maybe a distraction. And a way to eliminate Powers."

"I'm not quite sure I understand, George."

"I'm asking you to come in and help us sort this mess out. You know this place. You know these people. You can lead them much better than I can."

"Wait. Wait. Wait. You're afraid there are going to be more attacks?"

"Yes, Jack. But I can't explain everything now. There just isn't enough time. Please. What do you say?"

Jack was not sure what to say. He was in the middle of his vacation. He had escaped the madness for the last two weeks. And now they were calling him back in.

"Jack?" Bridges's voice came from the receiver, expecting an answer.

"Umm…," Jack considered his options. He couldn't refuse this one. People were in need of help. And what would other agents at C.T.U. think if he didn't come in to help? And a large-scale attack on Los Angeles. "Alright."

"Good, I'll send a chopper. We'll pick you up in about an half an hour."

Jack found a comfortable seat near the front desk and sat down, burying his head in his hands. Why today?

**8: 30**

Shannon Turner groaned as she felt a hand rubbing her shoulder. She opened her eyes. What? She was in a car? Then, reality set in on her. She remembered.

"Shannon, I'm going to have to ask you a few questions," the man driving said.

"What?" she said, slightly unconscious.

"The café bombing. Did you see anybody peculiar enter the café?"

Shannon thought back to the incident. She had been walking towards the café and then she saw---

"Yes, a man carrying a suitcase entered."

"Hmm," the driver said, interested.

"He looked…French, I believe."

The driver was disappointed. Completely catching Shannon by surprise, he slammed his foot against the brakes. The car came to a sudden halt. Shannon covered her head with her hands, thinking that they were about to be attacked. However, the driver only left the car and walked over to her side. He threw the door open and dragged her out. What was he doing, Shannon panicked.

"Get off me!" he screamed.

He reached into his pocket and took out a black object. The sun was shining in Shannon's eyes and she couldn't quite make out what it was. She blinked steadily. What was he doing? And then she realized what he was holding. It was clear now. A gun.

"No!" she cried. "Please no!"

He smiled as he attached a silencer.

She was going to die. But why? What had she done? She realized her only chance of survival was to jump up and fight back. With a war cry, she charged at him and slammed her fist into his stomach. At first, it seemed like he had not been hurt. Then, he croaked and pushed her off.

"You're gonna pay for that," he yelled, pointing the gun at her.

Desperately, she rolled to her side, heard a thump, and saw a small hole in the space where she had been several moments ago. He had missed.

She attacked him again, more furiously now. She kicked, punched, and tore, trying to grab his face. He was, of course, much more powerful than her. Grinning wildly, he caught one of her arms and held it in mid-air so she was unable to attack.

She felt the tip of the gun press up against her neck. No. Her kids. She couldn't---

She lashed out again, mustering up every single ounce of her remaining strength and smashing it into his nose. Blood spilled over the ground as he shrieked. She followed him to the ground and they wrestled over the gun.

As she scratched at his face with her other hand, she felt his grip loosen. She snatched his gun and stumbled up.

"Stay away from me!" she cried as he moved towards her. "I'll shoot. I swear I'll shoot."

But he didn't care. He moved closer. What had happened? Why was he doing this?"

"One more step," she warned him. He grabbed at her neck and she jammed the gun into his chest.

"You don't have the guts," he said and squeezed her neck.

She pulled the trigger. With a cry of disbelief, the man's eyes widened. His jaw dropped as he gripped his bleeding chest. He stared into her eyes and fell to the ground. Was he---? Yes. And she had killed him.

Shannon dropped the gun and it bounced slightly as it hit the ground. She had killed him. She---she needed to call the police now. She limped back to the car and began searching her bag for a cell phone.

**8: 35 **

Jack swiped the card and the door unlocked. He walked back into his room. The whole place was unorganized. He began snatching clothes from the floor and the bed into his bag. Damn it. He was starting to regret his decision.

He managed to get his fingernails under the mattress of his bed and lifted it up. Concealed inside and hidden safely was his pistol. He grabbed it and shoved it into the back of his jeans. Finished, he left the room.

**8: 39**

The situation at C.T.U. had gone from bad to worse. Four more agents had complained of computer problems and Laura was slightly relieved that it wasn't her fault.

"Chloe, I can't seem to log in," a male voice came from across the room.

"I know. I know!" Chloe yelled back, frustrated.

Suddenly, all the lights in the buildings flashed off and the room was plunged into darkness.

"What the hell?" Chloe said.

The lights flickered back on.

"What just happened?" Laura asked in wonder.

"I have no idea," Chloe replied.

As Laura's eyes scanned the room, she realized what was suddenly causing the increasing noise. Nobody could log in. All of the computers were displaying the same screen.

"Oh my God," Chloe said behind her.

"What is it, Chloe?" came the voice of Bridges, who had rushed out of his office to survey the scene.

"I think," Chloe started and gulped. "C.T.U.'s computers have been hacked. Somebody's in our database."

**8: 42**

The man in the black suit couldn't help but to show a grin. He was in C.T.U.'s database. He was staring at thousands of files. Files that contained evidence that had put many men and women to jail. Files that had helped C.T.U. track down some of the world's most dangerous criminals. Without these files, they would be nothing. They would have absolutely no information on any of them. Perfect. His mind racing with excitement, the man in the black suit began deleting them.

**8: 45**

Chloe was now working feverishly trying to access the files. Laura and George stood behind her, trying to offer suggestions. Chloe shrugged all of them off as her hands moved across the keyboard.

"Come on," she muttered under her breath. "Not now."

All of the agents were now standing behind Chloe, glaring at her screen.

"Chloe, maybe you could try…."

"Shut up, Edgar," Chloe said and continued working.

**8: 47**

The man in the black suit started to panic. He had managed to delete some crucial files but somebody --- somebody was fighting him. Somebody else was in the C.T.U. database. His breathing increased steadily. Then, he was thrown out.

Screaming, the man in the black suit grabbed a small cup from his desk and flung it across the room. It shattered as it smashed into the wall and glass flew in all directions.

Furious, he dialed a number on his cell phone.

"Ray?" he barked.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Are you on schedule?"

"Yes. I've got the explosives in the back."

"Good."

"Execute it, then."

"Yes, sir. Goodbye."

**8: 52**

Jack's hair blew back as the helicopter lowered itself. The door burst open and the pilot ran out, shaking Jack's hands.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jack said as he loaded his bags into the helicopter and buckled up.

Trees blew in the wind. The helicopter began levitating over the ground. When it was high above, Jack looked down to take a final look at his resort. Everybody was staring at the helicopter. It held still for several seconds before it flew forward.

**8: 55**

A plane had just arrived in Washington D.C. The passenger in seat 47 walked off, grabbed his bag, and hailed a taxi. Climbing in, he told the driver the address of the hotel and relaxed in the back seat.

The hotel wasn't far away from the airport. After checking in, he started unpacking in his room. Zipping open the bag, he revealed a shiny black sniper rifle with several armor-piercing bullets. That would help him today.

He loaded bullets into the sniper rifle. He put a "Do Not Disturb" sign on his front door and hid the sniper rifle in the room's closet.

Stepping out onto the balcony, he had a perfect view of the Capitol. He could see the White House slightly. It wasn't a long distance away. There were a lot of people walking in the streets. They would cause panic and confusion when the first shot rang off.

It was the perfect scene, he decided, for today. Perfect for the assassination.

He took a small glance at his watch and began making final preparations.


End file.
